Of Ferret and Scarhead: Drarry Oneshots
by thenerd1026
Summary: Follow our favorite boys through camping trips, naked lamps, and family life in this series of unrelated Drarry oneshots. SLASH! Rated T just in case.
1. The Camping Trip

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**

That's your tent?" an exasperated Harry asked, his green eyes growing to the size of saucers as he took in all of the equipment. "I'm not setting that up for you."

"You don't have to," Draco sniffed and surreptitiously pulled out his wand, delicately flicking it in the direction of his camping gear.

Before he had a chance to utter the incantation, Harry snatched his wand out of his hand with a muttered, "Oh no you don't."

"You're certainly making that a habit of yours," Draco drawled, eyeballing the wand clutched tightly in Harry's grasp.

Just like he had been doing all morning, Harry heaved a deep, frustrated sigh, shook his head, and grumbled under his breath. Draco was only able to make out the words, "tosser," and "pain in my."

After pocketing the blond's wand, Harry stormed passed Draco and started rummaging through the layers of material and camping equipment that littered the ground.

"What are you doing?" the blond asked with his chin still in the air so he had to look down his nose at Harry.

"Looking for instructions."

"Why?"

Harry made a noise at the back of his throat that wouldn't have been out of place while strangling someone. "Why," he mumbled to himself," haphazardly shoving things out of his way. "His royal highness wants to know why I'm looking—" he stopped mid-rant, jumped to his feet, and emphatically waved a piece of paper in the air. "Aha! I found it!"

The Slytherin rolled his eyes as the other man did a happy dance, ignoring the sudden warmth that spread through his chest. "Honestly," he sauntered over to the Gryffindor and fixed him with his fiercest glare. "Let me use my wand."

"No," he countered, shoving the paper under Draco's nose. "We're using the directions. Magic isn't allowed." He diverted his attention away from his former arch-nemesis, earnestly studying the sheet of paper. "A queen size bed, Draco?"

Draco was used to people—and most recently, Harry—staring at him. He did not like the way in which the other man stared at him now: like he had grown two extra heads. "Close your mouth, Potter, before you catch flies," he bit out.

For once, Harry obliged the blond, but didn't change his facial expression.

"Where else am I supposed to sleep?" He may have stomped his foot on the last word, but there was absolutely no way he whined.

Harry determinedly focused his gaze on the bedroll he had brought and looked back at a slightly disgruntled Draco. "A wardrobe?" he asked incredulously. "A full bathroom?"

As if the answer was completely obvious and Harry was an idiot, Draco made a sweeping gesture that encompassed his entire form.

Harry snorted, his eyebrows climbed into his hairline, but the amusement in his eyes couldn't be mistaken or the blush on his cheeks that Draco noted with his eagle eye precision.

"We should—um—get to it," Draco suggested, his own cheeks started to flame and his throat suddenly went dry.

"Yeah," Harry choked out before clearing his throat. "I'll just…" his voice trailed off as he read the rest of the instructions.

Draco knew the exact moment that Harry had reached the fine print at the bottom of the page. His eyes got impossibly wide as he let the paper fall from his clenching hands. If that wasn't enough incentive for Draco to turn tail and run, the steely glare that Harry shot his way was. That was when all hell broke loose.

"Malfoy, you bloody wanker," he screeched and closed the distance between them.

Draco did the Slytherin thing in that moment. He took off, running as fast as his feet could carry him.

"It can only be set up with magic," Harry snarled as he chased after the blond.

In an effort to lose the fuming Gryffindor who was hot on his heels and could easily overtake him, Draco turned a sharp corner and tripped over a log. Before he could break the fall with his face, a pair of strong arms wrapped around his waist and righted him.

Draco allowed Harry another second to crowd him before he carefully stepped away.

He shuffled his feet and looked anywhere but at Harry. His eyes landed on a point just beyond the other man's shoulder and he let out a small gasp. They were standing on a slight incline next to a glittering lake that was so still it looked like glass. There was a twisted, knotted oak tree growing out of the ground behind Harry whose branches extended over the water. The leaves caught the light of the sun and illuminated Harry's silhouette like an image from one of his dreams.

Not that he dreamed about Potter.

Catching on to the change in Draco's demeanor, Harry turned around and sucked in a sharp breath. "I guess we're going to fail Muggle Studies," he whispered, slipping a tentative hand into Draco's.

Unsurprisingly, Draco didn't really mind as he leaned against Harry, eventually resting his head on the other man's shoulder.

Muggle Studies be damned, this camping trip was perfect.


	2. Accio Draco

**Summary: Boys night out**

**A/N: Drinking?**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**

Friday nights were usually Harry's favorite night of the week. Since most of his friends had families and spouses at home, rarely could all of his former dorm mates get together. Except on Fridays, for at least an hour, all of them would gather until their responsibilities split up the group once again.

Normally the Leaky Cauldron on a Friday night felt a little like returning to Hogwarts before the war.

Four pints into the evening and Harry was feeling buzzed despite the morose cloud that threatened to engulf him. A cloud that Harry appropriately imagined was the same color of gray as the eyes of the person who was currently sitting across the room.

And he wasn't alone.

"You're staring again, mate," Ron hissed in his ear.

Perhaps Ron wasn't as discreet as he thought or the strange pull Harry had felt toward the blond for the past six months had turned tangible because the former Slytherin met and held Harry's gaze, a shy smile playing at the corners of his perfect mouth.

All too quickly for Harry's liking Draco looked back at his companion. The small smile he had shot at Harry was nothing compared to the dazzling one he reserved for Blaise.

Blaise Zabini, Draco's on-and-off again boyfriend, was the luckiest man in the world and he didn't appreciate it.

"Woah, Harry," Neville shouted and jumped from the shaking table, successfully capturing Harry's attention.

He looked from Ron to Seamus, to Dean, and finally to Neville before he realized the source of the mini-earthquake was his rampant wandless magic.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled sheepishly.

"'s alrigh' Harry," Seamus slurred. He leaned over the table and waved in Draco's direction, spilling his firewhiskey all over his hand and the basket of chips he had been nibbling on. "Malfoy is a tosser 'm'kay?" He fixed Harry with a stare that a professor would give a student in detention. "Forget him," he shouted and glared at the blond.

"Shut up Seamus," Harry ordered through gritted teeth and sunk lower in his seat.

Having plenty of practice at making the peace since he'd married Ginny, Dean raised his hands to stop Seamus from his rambling and to calm Harry down. Thinking it was best to change the subject, he fixed Harry with a placating smile. "That was some wandless magic, yeah?"

"Yeah," Ron agreed, pillowing his head on his arms. His flaming red hair stuck to his sweaty forehead and his eyes were drooping closed.

Neville rolled his eyes at both Seamus, who was now consuming the chips in front of him, and Ron who had started snoring. "Hmmm…" he hummed to his almost empty pint and tapped his knuckle on the table.

"What?" Harry asked, watching Draco drink his wine out of the corner of his eye.

"It just makes me wonder," Neville said carefully. "I mean," he straightened his back just as Draco's eyes landed on Harry's table. "What else, do you think you could do?"

Harry didn't see the knowing grin that Dean and Neville shared. He openly stared at the former Slytherins across the room as he spoke, "I can summon things, disarm someone, and perform some spells when I really concentrate," he ticked off his answer on his fingers. "I can't always control it," he added softly, feeling completely sober.

"Summoning charms, eh?" Dean smirked and nudged Neville in the ribs.

Harry didn't hear the rest of the exchange, instead he watched as Draco slid out of his seat, placed his hand on Blaise's shoulder and whispered something in his ear. His eyes met Harry's again. He knew. He had to know how Harry felt about him, the longing and want Harry had been stifling for months threatened to spill out of his mouth.

As if by magic, Draco straightened and sauntered over to Harry.

"Potter," he greeted, not bothering to acknowledge anyone else at the table. "I think I had a bit too much wine," he purred and bit his bottom lip. "Could you help me get home?"

There was a collective gasp from everyone who was still awake at the table. Harry's eyes automatically darted to Zabini who was chatting up Zacharias Smith in the corner, his arms wrapped around the other man's waist.

"Sure," Harry almost shouted, his eyes locking with Draco's once more.

"Come along, Potter," Draco called over his shoulder as he slinked toward the door. "I might need some help getting out of my clothes, I think I spilled some wine on them." He winked and walked out of the Leaky, leaving Harry staring open mouthed after him.

"Er, guys," he said, pulling out some galleons and tossing them onto the table next to Ron's sleeping head. "Make sure he gets home," he said in lue of a "good bye" and rushed out the door.

At first no one spoke. Seamus ate his chips while Dean looked at Neville and Neville looked at Dean.

"You don't think," Dean started, but shook his head. "No way."

Neville waved his wife over as he pleaded for some help with Ron and Seamus. "I think so, mate," he affirmed Dean's unspoken thoughts. "Wandless summoning," he let out a soft chuckle.

"Wow," Dean added. "Accio Draco."


	3. The Lamp Incident

**Summary: Our favorite boys go to an art gallery**

**A/N: My roomie showed me a funny picture and I wrote this**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

Harry was great at multi-tasking. Take right now for example; he was digging his elbow into his best friend's ribs while making sure his boyfriend was distracted across the room.

The woman with white hair and a low-cut top that ended with two bows over her boobs ran a finger down Draco's arm, and the latter returned her flirting with a polite smile.

"Shut up," Harry pleaded. Out of desperation he covered Ron's mouth with his hand and turned them both away from Draco's line of sight. He already felt out of place, he didn't need to prove to his boyfriend that he didn't belong.

It didn't help. Ron's laughter rang throughout the room.

"Please, Ron," he begged. "Draco will kill me if I embarrass him again. Don't you remember the salad fork incident?"

He stopped mid-chuckle.

"I knew I picked the right best friend," Harry winked.

Ron bit hit lip, another chuckle escaping his throat before he got it under control. "Cheers, mate," Ron snickered. "But you have to admit," he added with a shuddering breath, "that is completely ridiculous." He nodded his head in the direction of the exhibit that had started it all.

Displayed in the center of the room was a large yellow, three-sided box the size of a shower. Inside the box was a naked man with a thick black beard and black hair that was styled like it was waving at the sky. He was squatting with his back turned to the milling patrons of the gallery and he hugged a giant, clear ball with white threads like a spider web. In the center of the ball was a light bulb.

Even Harry had to suppress a laugh when he first saw it.

"How is that art?" he asked Ron in a whisper.

"I don't know," he giggled. "Quick, put your serious face on, your boyfriend is coming this way."

Harry chewed on the inside of his cheek and watched his boyfriend come toward them, raking his eyes over Harry's body. He held out a glass of champagne to Harry and lightly kissed him on the cheek.

"Having fun?"

Harry swallowed the chuckle that was about to burst forth. This art is just lovely, Dray—"

His sentence was interrupted by the loudest guffaw he had ever heard. Looking around to see the offender, Harry was met with the sight of his boyfriend bent at the waist as he pointed and laughed at the yellow box. "He's a lamp," Draco howled between peels of giggles. "He's a naked lamp."

Glancing around at the many, many glares that were sent their way, including one from the glorified lamp, Harry grabbed onto Draco's elbow and dragged him from the building, Ron following with a snort.

"Come on, Dray." Harry sighed as he carried his boyfriend away from the gallery. "Let's get you home."

"A naked lamp, Harry. Let's get one for the flat."


	4. Messy Flatmates

**Summary: Harry comes home to a messy flat**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**

Harry walked into his shared flat and almost walked out again. There were takeout containers, food wrappers, and several bits of used tissue on every available service. The kitchen was a disaster—how had his flatmate managed to dirty _every _dish they owned in a matter of hours?

Slamming the door shut, Harry shucked his shoes—even thought he didn't really see the point now—and headed toward the hallway.

"Draco?" he called out to his roommate and sidestepped a pile of dirty clothes. "You better get out here and clean up your mess! And you better not Aveda Kedavra the dishes again." He knocked on the blond man's bedroom door and it slowly slid open. "We just got new ones as is," Harry muttered to the dark room as he slipped inside.

He scanned the perfectly pristine room, noting that not a single thing was out of place. There was a small lump quivering on the far side of the bed.

"Draco?" Harry asked, already feeling like a heel.

When there wasn't a response, Harry tiptoed closer to the man. "Draco?"

As if a trance was broken, Draco jumped to his feet with a choked, "Harry," and ran into the dark haired man's arms, forcing him to cuddle. Not that Harry wouldn't have held him willingly.

"Draco, what's wrong?"

"They killed him," Draco whispered, sounding so very small.

Harry fought to keep from reacting as tears fell from the other man's gray eyes and soaked into his jumper. Lucius. Oh Merlin, the anniversary was today?

"I'm so, so sorry," Harry murmured and rubbed the blond's back in soothing circles.

"I just can't believe they shot him."

Harry stopped his ministrations and stared down at the former Slytherin. "Wait, shot? Who got shot?"

"Old Y-y-yeller," Draco stammered around another sob.

Harry really should have been mad that the flat was a mess and the blond had spent his day watching movies—he should have been frustrated in the very least, but somehow, snuggled up to Draco, Harry found that he really didn't mind.


	5. The Pumpkin Patch

**Summary: The boys take Rose to a pumpkin patch**

**A/N: This might be the beginning of its own story arc :)**

**Disclaimer: As with every other chapter, I do not own Harry Potter**

It all started in a pumpkin patch with little Rose Weasley, her frizzy red curls bouncing as she pointed excitedly at a field of pumpkins.

"Yook," she squealed and clapped her chubby hands together. "Pwetty pumkins."

"There's nothing pretty about this place, Potter," Draco grumbled, scowling at the mud and grass like it had personally offended him. "Why the hell did we have to bring her here?"

"Because," Harry nudged the blond with his shoulder and smiled that endearing, fond smile that made Draco's heart flip and his pulse race. Even in the biting September air, surrounded by hundreds of detestable, pest-filled pumpkins, Harry Potter was still the most charming, gorgeous man Draco had ever seen.

Without warning, a piercing giggle rent the air, startling the former Slytherin out of his daydreams starring a warm bed and a naked Harry. "Shit," Draco blurted before he could stop the word from spilling forth.

"What's 'shit?'" Rose asked, turning her inquisitive gaze on Draco as she tugged on his coat with a sticky hand. How her hands were always sticky was beyond him.

Harry fixed Draco with a look that said his daydreams would not come true anytime soon if he didn't make things right. It was hard enough to get Ron to trust Rose around Draco as it was.

"I said 'ship,' Honey," Draco crooned with his most alluring smile—the same smile that had captured the very heart of the saviour of the wizarding world.

"Good one," Harry snorted, but didn't add any argument. "Remind me again why Ron's afraid to leave you alone with her?" he grinned and slipped his strong arm around the blond's waist. There was a silent promise for later when the green-eyed man's hand traveled south and pinched Draco's backside before sliding into the blond's back pocket.

"Because Weasel is an asshole," Draco drawled and promptly bit his bottom lip at the scathing glare his boyfriend sent him. "I said 'apple,'" Draco directed at the mini-Weasley-Granger before she could ask the question that was already on the tip of her tongue.

"My daddy is an owpple?" little Rosie asked in a high-pitched voice that squeaked on the last word.

"Yes, your daddy is the biggest apple I've ever seen," Draco responded with a flourish, kissing his daydreams good bye when Harry removed his hand.

"I can't believe you just taught that to a three year old," Harry bit out, his searing green eyes blazed with an unspoken warning. "If you thing you're getting any—"

"Getting any what, Unc Hawwy?" the pesky, little know-it-all asked, squirming since the kid had an endless supply of energy. "Candy?" she supplied, bringing her mittened hands to her mouth as her eyes grew hopelessly wide. Oh no, they were in for it. If Rose Weasley, foodaholic like her father, thought Harry wasn't going to give her any candy, they would be spending the next hour coddling an inconsolable child. Draco could already see the tears gathering on her eyelashes.

"No, no," Harry rushed to reassure the whimpering child. "I wasn't talking about candy, love." He glanced at Draco, his eyes pleading for help before he directed his attention back to the small girl. "I was just telling Uncle Draco that we weren't going to do any dancing later on."

"Dancing?"

"Yes dancing," the blond helpfully added. His normally pouty lips curled into the most Slytherin smile Harry had ever witnessed that it would have given Tom Riddle a run for his money. Maybe even Salazar Slytherin himself. "It's called the Horizontal Hanky Panky."

**A/N: Sorry I had to upload this chapter twice, it was a bit funky the first time. Thank you so much for reading. Reviews are more than welcome...they're encouraged. :D**


	6. Cookie Conundrum

**Disclaimer: *Sigh* I don't own Harry Potter**

"Potter you will get back here if you know what's good for you!"

No one could believe what they were seeing in the eighth year common room. Harry Potter, savior of the wizarding world, defeater of dark lords, all around greatest hero of all time, was cowering behind a helpless Trevor who croaked in indignation.

"I don't have them," Harry cried from his hiding place crouched behind Neville's toad. He turned to Pansy, Dean, Seamus, Neville, Ron, Hermione, Blaise, and the other eighth year students, patted his puckered lips with his index finger and slightly shook his head.

"Where the hell are my bloody cookies, Potter?" Draco roared as he burst into the room wand in hand.

A croak pierced the air as Harry dropped the toad and ran out of the room.

Pansy cleared her throat and pointed her finger at Harry's retreating back. "I believe he threw them away, Dray."

"I did not," Harry called over his shoulder as he raced down the stairs. "I ate them," he added before he disappeared into the rest of the castle.

"Harry James Potter," Draco screeched like a banshee and chased after him. "I want my damn cookies! If I have to replace my cookies with you I will," he paused, a stain of pink touched he cheeks as he visualized all the possibilities. "In fact," he mumbled to himself, "I'd very much like to get my hands on your cookies."

**Reviews are lovely!**


	7. The Apple Wars

**Summary: Rose says things, Ron retaliates, and Harry is stuck in the middle. Continuation of The Pumpkin Patch**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter (I wish I did).**

**A/N: Thank you for reading this far! :D**

Draco scrubbed at his teeth with far too much toothpaste and spit out a wad of the foam into Ron and Hermione's kitchen sink. The sound of Ron's cackles could be heard over Rose's screeching, "You son of a bench," and Hermione's cries for some semblance of order.

"Ronald, pull yourself together," Hermione bellowed and kicked at her husband's shins. "Don't make me hex you," she warned, her voice tingeing on that terrifying quiet rage that most women possessed. Well, most were quiet about it, but Molly Weasley was the exception to every rule.

_Thank Merlin she wasn't here_, Harry thought as he glanced from the chaos of the living room to the complete and utter carnage of the dining room. The table had scorch marks on it, one of the chairs was a smoking pile of splinters, and the tray of desserts that Ron had made was plastered to the wall.

Harry shouldn't have been surprised. He should have known that this dinner wasn't a truce between Ron and Draco like his best friend had proposed. It was a declaration of war. Ron was still seething about the alternate swearing that Draco had taught Rose—especially since she had spent the past month calling Ron an apple anytime he had upset her.

Like she sometimes had to do with Crookshanks, Hermione muttered _Aguamenti_, and attempted to drown her laughing husband with the stream of water shooting out of her wand. "And you," she rounded on the child, "Stop saying that. It's naughty," she scolded.

"You'we such a bwizzard," Rose supplied helpfully with a wide, innocent smile.

Harry suppressed a snicker, quickly biting his bottom lip and shaking his head as he turned around to look at the blond rinsing out his mouth with the water from the faucet. Harry's gaze raked over the perfect lines of his boyfriend's body, landing on his firm thighs, taut buttocks, slender waist, lean back and broad shoulders. He was practically drooling by the time he reached Draco's neck, a light purple love bite peeking out of Draco's collar.

"How are you doing, love?" Harry cooed, walking up to the other man and resting his chin on his shoulder.

"I'm going to kill him, Harry," Draco deadpanned.

"Oh, come on," Ron crowed from the living room floor. "Don't be like that Drakeykins."

"Fuck you Weasel."

"Ron," Harry scolded at the same time that Hermione shouted, "Draco."

"Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you," Rosie sing-songed from her spot on the couch. She jumped to her feet and started dancing on the cushions as she continued her song.

With a paralyzing glare, Hermione sighed, "Do something," she pleaded with Harry, clearly just as exasperated with Draco's and Ron's antics as Harry.

"He said duck," Harry told the dancing child. "He said 'duck you.'"

Rose scrunched up her face as if she was trying to make all the pieces of the puzzle fit in her head. "Oh, thanks Unca Hawwy! Duck you, duck you, duck you, duck you DADDY!"

"You arse," Ron shot at a smirking Draco. "That's not funny!"

"I beg to differ," Draco drawled, crossing his arms over his chest.

Their silent stare down was interrupted by Rose's excited chanting of, "Duck you Daddy, you arse! Duck you Daddy, you arse! Duck you Daddy, you arse!"

"Honestly, Ronald," Hermione shrieked, her wand pointing dangerously close to his favorite piece of anatomy. "Do something or I will," she threatened with a cock of her eyebrow.

"I said horse," Ron informed his daughter, a flush coloring his face and ears.

Harry nodded at the little girl when she turned to him for confirmation. Her blue eyes brightened, she beamed at everyone in the room and clapped her hands. "Yay! Duck you Daddy, you horse! Daddy is a wittle owpple bench!"

Feeling the danger level in the house rising with the icy glare Hermione shot at all of the men in the room, Harry bravely dove behind the couch and peeked around the corner. He brandished his wand in case he needed to restrain the scariest woman alive or cast a shield for Draco and himself if needed.

A tense few minutes passed in which Harry was ready to recall every maneuver he had learned from Auror training in case this was just the calm before the storm.

"Make this right," Hermione warned, her voice shaking with restrained fury. "And you little missy," she waltzed over to her daughter and scooped her into her arms, "it's time for bed. Say good night."

"Nigh nigh Unca Hawwy," she waved a chubby hand over Hermione's shoulder as the woman carried her up the stairs. "Nigh Unca Dwaco! Duck you Daddy."

When Hermione had disappeared out of sight with Rose, Harry laughed so hard that tears were streaming down his face. Just when he thought he had it under control, another chuckle would burst forth and the process began again. "Er—sorry," he choked out between high-pitched—and very manly—giggles. "You are ridiculous," Harry added when Ron and Draco had opened their mouths to say something. "You," he pointed his wand at his best friend, "I can't believe you did that."

Ron had the grace to blush deeper and duck his head. "He deserved it," he grumbled under his breath.

"I deserved it? I'll show you what you deserve you fucking wanker," Draco snarled and prowled toward the other man only to be stopped by Harry's hand gently clasping his elbow.

"Dray, stop," Harry whined. "I can't do this anymore. You two need to get over whatever rivalry you still have going on. This isn't Hogwarts," he chided. "Ron," he said and turned the full power of his glare on the redhead, "Serving Draco a caramel covered onion under the guise of a caramel apple is just low. And Draco," he added, turning to his boyfriend, "exploding his chair and setting him on fire isn't any better. You two should be ashamed of yourselves."

"Sorry, Harry," they both said in unison, scuffing the floor with the tips of their shoes and looking at Harry through their eyelashes.

"Good," Harry nodded, "that's good." He walked over to the fireplace, pinched some floo powder from the canister, tossed it into the flames and shouted the "Leaky Cauldron," after the fire turned emerald green. "I'm getting a drink," Harry called over his shoulder and disappeared in the flames.

Before he was lost to the floo network, the unmistakable voice of a very foolish Ronald Weasley floated through the connection, "You have to admit, Ferret, the caramel covered onions idea was pretty funny."

**Reviews are lovely!**


	8. Apple Wars 2

**This is a continuation of The Pumpkin Patch and Apple Wars :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

Ron had long ago accepted that his best mate was head over heels for that ferrety, Slytherin, git, Draco Malfoy. He'd smiled and clapped Harry on the back when the man had finally grown a set and asked the prat out on a date, successfully ending their little flirting dance. Ron had even helped Harry pack up Grimmauld Place when they had bought their own house together in the suburbs. Not only did he continue to invite Harry and the ferret over at least once a week for dinner, he had gone to the jewelers with Harry a week before to help him pick out "the right ring."

Ron was nothing if not the greatest friend that someone could ever have.

He had taken all of Harry's life decisions in stride and supported him every step of the way. But this? This was pushing things too far.

Draco Malfoy, prat extraordinaire, had covered Ron's office in apples. Green apples, red apples, yellow apples, rainbow apples, diamond apples—apples that had little faces carved into them, apples that wolf whistled when he walked into the room, and apples that chorused, "Ron is a Weasel." There were some that sprouted confetti, and some that spun in circles—there were even some hanging from the ceiling.

Everywhere Ron looked there were bloody apples.

"Well, mate," Harry proclaimed with a conspiratorial wink and a pat on the back, "an apple a day keeps the doctor away."

The shout Harry let out when a stray hex was sent his way was loud enough to trigger an exploding mechanism in some of the apples, sending mushed fruit all over his office.

Ha bloody ha. Duck Draco, the horse.

**Reviews are lovely!**


	9. The Big Gay Secret

**This was written for the prompt: Coming Out. It had to be 365 words, so I had to take a hatchet to it in order to meet the rules. I'm sorry if it's a bit vague.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.**

"You can do this," Draco murmured, adjusting the collar on Harry's shirt and brushing a kiss against his lips.

It wasn't enough. Tilting his head to get better access, Harry quickly deepened the kiss evoking a soft moan from his boyfriend.

He wondered how far he could push Draco with Hermionie and Ron sitting in Harry's living room. It had been years since there'd been any animosity between the trio and the former Slytherin, but he finally needed to clue them in on his _big_ _secret._

Incidentally, Draco broke the kiss and pushed at the other man's chest until Harry released him. "Speccy git," Draco whispered fondly, cupping Harry's cheek and lightly brushing his thumb over the soft skin.

"Cheeky bastard," Harry accused with a wink. "Wait for me, yeah?"

"Of course, love," Draco grinned and slapped Harry's backside. "Now get out there and be the big, brave Gryffindork."

"I'll get you for the later."

"Is that a threat, Potter?" Draco purred, pushing gently at Harry's back, forcing him out of the kitchen.

"It's a promise."

Knowing that Draco would be there no matter the outcome of his conversation with Ron and Hermione, Harry marched into the living room. He could do this. He would do this.

"Everything all right, Harry?" Hermione asked from her spot next to Ron on the couch.

"Yeah," Harry answered, suddenly feeling small.

"You're scaring us, mate," Ron said with a calculating look on his face.

"Well, it's…" Harry trailed off and glanced in the direction of the kitchen. "I'm gay. And I've been seeing Draco for six months."

Harry had expected shock or tears from Hermione and screaming from Ron. He'd not anticipated the knowing look they shot at each other, a full conversation in their eyes before they broke into laughter.

"We know," Ron snorted. "We've known for like sixteen years, Harry."

"You already knew?"

"Draco you can come out here," Hermione called, her eyes on the kitchen door. "It's fine."

"You—you _knew_?"

"Harry, you and Draco have been disappearing for the past six months and returning with matching hickies. It's not that hard to figure out, mate."

"You knew?"

"We knew," Hermione and Ron said simultaneously.

**Reviews are lovely!**


	10. This is Home

**Summary: Harry comes home from a mission**

**A/N: Slight mentions of a sexual nature, otherwise this is a fluffy, over-emotional Draco fic**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**

"Not now, Honey," Draco murmured as he added some salt and pepper to the vegetables cooking on the stove. "I'm almost done with dinner."

"Dad," Albus whined, pulling at the blond's shirt. "Dad," he tugged harder.

Huffing and puffing, Draco set the peppershaker on the counter and glanced at the clock—Harry would be home in less than fifteen minutes. It had been a long week for Draco, a long week without Harry and only a cold bed for company.

Draco hated when Harry had to leave for long missions. It always took them longer than the time he was gone to get back into the swing of things.

"What is it, Alby?" he asked on a heavy sigh.

The four-year-old replica of Harry fidgeted, looking down at the kitchen tiles as if they held all the answers in the world. He sniffled and rubbed his nose with the back of his hand.

Forgetting about dinner preparations, Draco dropped to his knees and tried to capture his son's attention. He gently touched his index finger to the bottom of the boy's chin and tilted his face toward him. "Alby?"

The moment Al's tear-lined emerald eyes met his, Draco felt his own heart break. Drawing his son into a fierce hug, Draco kissed Alby's temple as the little boy cried into his shoulder. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. "It's a little tough without Daddy," he explained honestly.

"I miss Daddy," Albus whimpered and buried his wet face into Draco's neck.

"I know, love," the blond responded while rubbing soothing circles into his son's back. "I miss him too."

"Do you think he still loves us?"

The question caught Draco so off guard that he almost cursed. He'd be lying if he hadn't thought about that a few times during his ten-year relationship with the other man. It's not like Harry didn't have gorgeous young men throwing themselves at him, letting Draco know that he could have anyone he wanted.

And who was to say if Harry did slip-up that Draco would ever know? Despite being on friendly terms with most of Harry's inner-circle, they would easily hide something like that from him.

He scanned the room around him and noted the drawings all over the refrigerator, the breakfast nook garnished with a vase that Jamie had made as an art project, the tiny fingerprints on every surface from Lily's constantly sticky hands, the magical stain on the curtains from Scorp's potions experiment gone awry, and the ever leaky faucet in the sink. Would Harry meet someone with less baggage and history and leave the house and family they'd made together?

"Of course I do," a haggard voice, dripping with exhaustion and emotion responded from behind them.

Before Draco had the chance to turn around, strong arms wrapped around the blond and little Albus, pulling them both against an equally strong chest. "I will always love you," Harry whispered and Draco didn't need to look to know his better half had tears in his eyes.

"Daddy!" Scorpius shrieked from the living room, his heavy steps coming closer as he raced into the kitchen and tackled the three people on the floor.

"Daddy's home?" Jamie thundered down the stairs and plopped right in the middle of the reunion.

Amidst the chaos that was the Malfoy-Potter clan, Draco turned to soak in the presence of the man still clinging to him. He had dark rings under his eyes, stubble on his chin, and his hair looked like a bird's next, but his eyes were bright with joy and love. Harry kissed each of the boys and held onto them tightly, not once letting his arm slip from the blond's waist.

Absently trailing his fingers over Draco's hipbone, the blond shuddered—it had been too damn long since his husband had last touched him and a wave of want and need coiled low in his belly almost overwhelming him.

Leaning as close to the former Gryffindor as possible, Draco kissed his shoulder before their children pounced on them, knocking them flat on their backs. Harry's laughter rolled over Draco as he pulled him flush against his side and kissed him soundly on the mouth.

Draco squirmed against his husband, fighting the moan that threatened to tear from his chest. The kids were still piled on top of them and Harry's hand grazing his hip and upper thighs was not helping the situation.

"Alright," Draco broke free from Harry's spectacular lips—hiding the whimper at the loss of his husband's mouth against his.

Draco forgot what he was going to say when he looked into the endless pools of green that were Harry's eyes. The longing and want hidden in their depths was enough for Draco to melt into a puddle. He wished he were alone with Harry, writhing underneath him, and screaming in ecstasy. God, the things that man could do to him.

Harry's eyes darkened with lust, mirroring Draco's own expression.

The timer for the oven interrupted the chaos of the reunion. Harry clambered to his feet and pulled Draco up with him.

"Okay, kiddos," he spoke like he was leading a team of Aurors in the field, "time for dinner. Jamie, set the plates, Scorpius and Albus, you are on napkin and cup duty."

Three heads bobbed in unison and Harry smiled fondly at his sons. "Ready? Go," he clapped and cheered them on as they moved as fast as their bodies would let them.

With the children properly distracted, Harry turned on his husband, his dark gaze sweeping over his favorite bits of Draco's anatomy. He crowded Draco until the blond was pushed against the back of the counter, and closed the small gap between them.

"I saw your face, Dray," he whispered.

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't give me that," Harry pleaded. "I'm talking about Alby's question."

Draco stared at a fixed spot over his husband's shoulder and chewed on his bottom lip. "It's hard," he whispered so softly that Draco wasn't sure Harry had heard him.

"I know," Harry responded, taking Draco's hand in his and placing it on his chest. "I will never leave, Dray," Harry promised. "This is my home."

"It's just a building," Draco drawled and blinked back the tears that always threatened to spill when Harry saw through his persona, making him feel vulnerable.

"That's not what I'm talking about. This," Harry patted Draco's hand over his heart, "you, are my home. I can't live without you, love."

Before Draco could argue with his idiot, Gryffindor, over-emotional husband, his lips were busy doing something other than talking.

If the boys' chorused "Ewws," and Lily's crying from her crib went ignored for a beat too long, no one could blame them.

"Welcome home, love," Draco whispered against Harry's lips.

**Reviews are lovely!**


	11. Apple Wars 3

**This is a continuation of The Pumpkin Patch, Apple Wars, and Apple Wars 2. I hope you enjoy!**

Draco was not ready for the backlash of his latest plot. Sure, the Weasel had deserved it after he'd charmed apples to attack him like a bludger, but Draco had retaliated by turning his fat head into a gigantic apple—he couldn't fit through a door without casting an _Engorgio _for a week!

Weaslebee was the one that took the war a step further when he charmed any food that Draco put in his mouth to automatically turn into an apple, except it didn't stop with food. Not only had part of Harry's anatomy turned into a giant red apple, but both Harry and Draco had suffered until it wore off two weeks later.

Only now, with a menacing Hermione brandishing her wand, did Draco think he might have pushed his latest prank too far.

"You two are completely out of control," she scolded, her hair in complete disarray as she cradled a scowling Rose on her hip.

"I don't think—"

"That's the crux of it all, Draco, you weren't thinking." She gestured to the room around them and Draco sunk lower in his chair-turned-apple. "An apple?!" she shrieked and it pierced his eardrums. "You turned our house into an apple!"

Ron sniggered from his spot next to Draco and the blond elbowed him in the ribs. As hard as possible.

"Don't think you're off the hook," Harry admonished, his arms crossed over his chest and his hair competing with Hermione's in wildness. "You were trying to figure out how to turn Draco into an apple pie last time I checked."

The quelling glare the blond sent the redhead was enough to wipe any sort of amusement from the other man's face. He squirmed in his seat and stared down at his lap, the tips of his ears turning as red as his apple-house.

"This childish prank war," Hermione cut in, "is out of hand. You two weren't even this bad when we were at Hogwarts!"

"What has gotten into you two?"

"Motherducking apple benches," Rose added helpfully.

Ron gaped at his precious little girl and her dirty sailor mouth. It didn't take a genius to figure out what she was really saying. He narrowed his eyes at Harry and then at the blond boasting a grin next to him. "Why did you have to teach her that?"

"If I remember correctly," Hermione interrupted before Draco could form a scathing reply, "and I always remember correctly, you helped teach her some of those words too."

"Yes, but—"

"No, buts," Harry said, using his best Auror Potter voice that was so commanding it worked on his best friend and Auror partner. "You two need to make this right."

"Come on, Harry," Draco whined. "He's the one that started it."

"I don't care who started it," Harry replied like a parent speaking to a child. "You two are going to finish it before we Aveda Kedavra you both."

"You are just overreacting," Ron blurted. "They were just a couple of harmless pranks. No harm done."

It was Hermione's turn to glower icily at her husband. "No harm done?" she repeated, her voice strained as she refrained from exploding. "You will sleep on the couch, Ronald Weasley, until you fix this."

"'Mione! That's not fair."

"Fix. This."

Harry smiled sternly at the two properly chastised men slouching in defeat on their apple seats. "'Mione and I are taking Rosie to get some ice cream at Fortescue's, which should give you plenty of time to fix this before we get back." He herded the other two over to the fireplace and threw some floo powder into the flames. "Seriously," he stared daggers at the men, "otherwise we won't come back until this is over."

As the three disappeared, Draco had to admit that maybe he had gotten a little carried away.

**I just wanted to take a minute to thank everyone for their follows/favorites/reviews. I was nervous to post these stories because I was afraid I'd only get negative feedback, but you all have been so amazing. As always, reviews are lovely and make me squee!**


	12. George's Big Help

**So this fic was written for the prompt: "I'm a good sucker. I can suck a cookie up my straw," George Weasley, and the Restricted Section. It sort of ran away from me and this was the end result. **

**Warnings: Slight mentions of mpreg if you squint, but it can also be taken as adoption.**

* * *

George Weasley was returning to Hogwarts. He walked through the corridors, pausing to take in the remodeled Great Hall full of students who looked younger than he could ever remember being. He peeked around the tables, his eyes lingering on the Weasley cousins—including his own children—and the Potters, and even the white blond head that was currently engaged in deep conversation with the mini-Harry Potter.

He imagined how different Hogwarts would have been if Harry and Malfoy had been friendly.

Shaking the images from his mind, George continued on his journey to the third floor. Apart from his children, there was only one other reason that would bring George back to the old castle and it was on the third floor.

He stopped outside a classroom that had been one of his favorites when he attended the school. Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door while he pushed it open and peered inside.

Along with the majority of the castle, the old Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom had gone through a makeover while still managing to look like the original. Merlin, George loved magic.

Glancing around the empty classroom, memories—thousands of memories—flitted through his mind. He'd had some amazing times in this room. Not wanting to dwell on the sad memories, George recalled the time he realized he was in love with Angelina. He and Fred had been late to class and Angelina had distracted Lupin so that they could slip into the classroom undetected. Except Snape was substituting and all three of them wound up with two weeks worth of detentions.

It was during those weeks, scrubbing out cauldrons and cleaning the potions supply closet that George had silently vowed to marry her.

His pledge had come true, much to the dismay of a lot of their friends. They didn't think George would ever settle down, but he knew he was waiting for the right one—for his Angelina.

With a smile on his face, George left the classroom and walked to the library. His old friend could be found in the Restricted Section during his free periods.

Sure enough, tucked away near a shadowy corner covered in cobwebs, was the man George had come to see hunched over a thick book.

"Hiya," he greeted the man, joining him on the floor.

"George," the other man smiled and closed the book, sending a dusty cloud into the air. He coughed and waved the cloud away before settling his bright green eyes on the redhead. "What brings you here?"

"Mum and Ginny are worried, mate."

Harry huffed and rolled his eyes, running a hand through his messy black hair. It was still thick and wild after all these years. "There's nothing to worry about. I'm fine," he argued even though his slumped shoulders said otherwise.

"No worries," George smiled and raised his hands in surrender. "I just came to see how my favorite ex-brother-in-law was doing."

"I'm your only ex-brother-in-law," Harry reasoned with an answering grin.

George clapped Harry on the back and leaned in like he was sharing a big secret, "Yes, but you're also my friend, Harry." His smile turned somber as he added, "One of my best friends."

Unsurprisingly, George found himself engulfed in a friendly hug and the crease in his friend's forehead from his furrowed brows had smoothed over.

"What are you reading?" George asked and nodded his chin in the book's direction.

"Oh this?" Harry held up one of the musty pages and gave a soft smile as if he was remembering something private. "It's a book of dating tips. I read it when Ginny and I divorced—it's rather silly really." He pointed to one of the paragraphs, "This is a chapter of come on lines. Look here—'Are you wearing space pants? Because your butt is out of this world.'"

"Or this one." George suggested, reading over Harry's shoulder, "'I'm a good sucker. I can suck a cookie up my straw.' What does that even mean?" He snorted and rolled his eyes before looking down at the page. "Actually, I think I might use that one in the shop. Do you mind?" Without caring that it was a library book, George tore the page from the tome and put it in his pocket. "This could be a whole new line of products. The Come on Candies," George cringed. "Then again, maybe not."

Harry snickered and closed the book. "Why are you here, really?" he asked, his voice sounding small and far away as if he already knew the answer.

Heaving a deep sigh, George looked at his friend. "Draco stopped by the Burrow today."

Harry's response was a noncommittal noise at the back of his throat and avoiding eye contact.

"Mum and Ginny were there and—"

"What did he say?" Harry whispered and curled in on himself, wrapping his arms around his legs and holding them tightly to his chest.

"You two had a row."

Harry nodded his head and chewed on his bottom lip. George couldn't help but notice that he had picked up that habit from Draco. Among some other habits—but the blond had picked up just as many from Harry.

Being married for a few years would do that to any couple.

"He wants to have more children," Harry replied after a few minutes of silence in which he stared out the window and George studied his tired, sad eyes. If he didn't know any better, he'd say that Harry looked exhausted from teaching so many classes a week while still running the Auror Department, but only Draco could cause this kind of emotion in the other man—always had and always will.

"And you don't?"

"Would you want more kids?" Harry snorted as he shook his head. "That's—it's just, no."

George tapped his finger to his chin as he thought of the right words to say. "I think," he began and softened his voice so Harry would be more apt to hearing him out. "I think that if I'd had kids with someone else and Angelina had children before she was married to me, then I would want something together—just the two of us, without any ex-spouses involved. Something to share." He cleared his throat and glanced out the dirty window just as an owl flew by. "I also know that I would be terrified of messing everything up again. Harry, Draco just wants a part of you that no one else has other than Ginny. And I bet it kills him every time he thinks about it."

"But he does," Harry murmured softly. "He has a part of my heart that Ginny never had, George." He waved his hand in the air as if to summon what he wanted to say next. "I'm sorry. That came out harsh. I love Ginny—you know that, but it's different with Dray." Just mentioning the other man's name had his face splitting into a smile. "I can't risk him. This is just—"

"Have you told him this? All the things you're telling me?"

The deafening silence that filled their little corner was enough of an answer for George. "You have to tell him, Harry."

Setting his jaw in determination, Harry fixed George with his emerald eyes. "You're right," he declared as he got to his feet and patted the dust off his backside. "You're brilliant, mate. Cheers." Without another glance, Harry strolled out of the Restricted Section to win his pushy, blond husband back.

A year later, they all welcomed Alastor Remus Malfoy-Potter into their clan of Weasleys, Lupins, Blacks, Malfoys, Potters, and Malfoy-Potters. No one else noticed when Harry winked at George as he wrapped his arms around Draco and the new addition to their family.

**Reviews are lovely and make me squee!**


	13. Lunch Dates

If Draco could Aveda Kedavra anyone, it would be Harry bloody Potter. He stared at the dark haired, Gryffindor _idiot_, and seethed. The git in question was completely ignorant of Draco's presence, flashing a besotted smile to himself every few seconds.

And Draco just wasn't having that.

He stormed into the kitchen and crowded Harry against the counter.

"Wipe that fucking smile off your face, Potter before I knock it off."

Immediately obliging Draco's orders, Harry replaced his smile with a frown. His brows furrowed, creasing his forehead and his eyes reminded Draco of a kicked puppy. Absentmindedly Harry gripped Draco's hips, his thumb tracing circles on the blond's pelvis a little too close to a certain piece of his anatomy for Draco's liking.

"What's wrong, Dray?"

Draco slapped at his husband's hands and stepped away from the other man. Being that close to Harry was detrimental to his anger. Clearing his throat so his voice didn't shake with want, Draco glared at his uncomfortable husband. "Don't you act like you don't know what's going on," he accused, pointing his finger at Harry's perfectly muscled, broad chest. The kind of chest that he loved to lick, and God, the sounds that man made when—

Draco shook his head to clear his thoughts and sneered. "Healer Braxton floo called this morning." Draco paused and let his words sink in. David Braxton was one of the most gorgeous men in the Wizarding world and he had set his sights on the stupid, ignorant, Gryffindor currently shuffling from one foot to the other.

"And?" Harry squeaked.

Draco narrowed his gray eyes at the other man. That squeak was reserved for their bedroom and they both knew it. Now just the thinking of some other man was causing that sound in his husband? Fuck that.

"He wanted to know if you were still on for your lunch _date _tomorrow," Draco drawled, his hands clenching into fists on the last word. "He asked me to make sure you're not late. It's at noon in case you were wondering."

"Thanks, Baby," Harry smiled adoringly at the blond and leaned forward to kiss him, but kissed air instead. "What?"

"Don't you 'what' me, Harry James Potter. If you think I'm going to stand by while some hussy tries to steal you away—"

Harry's laughter echoed through the room. He slapped his thighs and bent at the waist as shudders shook his body. "My stomach," he guffawed. "It hurts." He wiped at a few tears that had gathered in the corners of his eyes before he erupted into laughter again.

"I don't think this is a laughing matter, you idiot."

"You're such a tosser," Harry crowed. "Merlin, you think I would have the balls to cheat on you? And parade it in front of your face? I wouldn't have balls left." He chuckled and shook his head. "If you would have paid any attention instead of tuning out like some jealous wanker, you would know that _Ron _and I are meeting him for lunch regarding a case we've been working on. I told you this yesterday."

"Oh," Draco mumbled, feeling properly chastised as a flush crept onto his cheeks. "But I thought…"

Harry took pity on his husband and kissed his nose. There was just something about a jealous Draco that was so cute when he got so angry. "I know what you thought, love. I'm sure even the neighbors heard you carrying on," he kissed his husband sweetly and wrapped his arms around his waist. "Now, let's see if we can't make everyone else jealous," he winked and shot the blond a shy smile.

Draco's eyes darkened with a mischievous twinkle and the promise of more things to come. "Mine," he growled and proceeded to thoroughly mark his husband.

**Reviews are lovely!**


	14. The Perfect Auror

Harry scrubbed a hand over his face—of all the rotten luck, he couldn't believe this was happening to him. Glancing around the room for a supportive face, all he saw were frowns and uncomfortable stares.

Harry should have known better.

Of course they would all side with _him_. Who wouldn't? Even Harry was finding himself agreeing with those around him.

He felt like such a tosser.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered in apology and quickly moved to the other side of his desk. His gaze briefly connected with cold gray and he dropped to his knees. "I never meant to hurt your feelings," he continued and stared into the eyes before him. "I never should have said that you couldn't be an Auror. You'd make the best Auror."

"And?" the blond standing with his arms on his hips prompted, followed by a perfectly arched brow.

"And," Harry hastened to say, "we would be lucky to have you."

Draco bit his lip and gave Harry a firm nod, his stare drifting from Harry to the person standing before him. "I think that will suffice," he declared, resting his hand on the shoulder of the little body before him.

Harry tracked the movement of his husband's hand and found it hard to meet the calculating stare of the green eyes before him. His son wasn't so easily appeased and Harry knew he'd have to pull out the big guns in order to win him over.

He looked down at the stuffed animal clutched in Alby's tiny hand—a half-pumpkin, half-bear thing that Luna had given him over a year ago.

It was Albus Malfoy-Potter's favorite toy and just happened to be the reason that Harry was currently in the doghouse.

He leaned forward and planted a kiss on his son's forehead and charmed a set of Auror robes for the toy. "How would you like to go on the stakeout with me tonight, Auror Pumpkin Bear?"

Albus cocked his head as he thought about the right answer, tapping his chin with the tip of his index finger. "Alright," he waved his hand in the air as he pardoned the man kneeling before him. "I guess you're forgiven, Daddy."

**Reviews are lovely!**


	15. Idiot

"Fuck this," Harry muttered and kicked the grass on the Pitch, almost dropping his broom.

"Calm down," Ron warned under his breath, the voice of reason for once. Maybe dating Hermione was rubbing off on him in more ways than one.

"How can I calm down, Ron?" Harry asked through gritted teeth. "He won't stop touching him." Harry seethed, his teeth grinding in anger. "Now he's leaning on him."

Harry could feel Ron's calculating gaze on him and flushed with embarrassment. And anger. Definitely anger.

Ignoring his best friend in favor of watching the display before him, Harry looked on as Zacharias Smith draped his body all over another blond—this one Slytherin and his gray eyes were glued to Harry.

The blond, Slytherin, _bastard_ knew exactly what he was doing and Harry's magic flared under the surface of his skin as the other man's lips curled from a sneer into something sharp and cunning. He flashed Harry a brilliant smile before scooting closer to the manhandling Hufflepuff.

Harry wanted to burn down the Hufflepuff common room—he wanted to cast a charm on all Hufflepuffs to drown in a lake—he wanted to—to—to—

He wanted to punch Zacharias Smith in his stupid nose. Who seriously goes out in public with a _nose_ like that?

A nose that was far too close to the Slytherin for Harry's liking.

But he wasn't jealous.

He was far from jealous.

Jealousy was on a completely different planet than the one he was on. If he were Mercury than jealousy would be Neptune…

His stomach churned and his nostrils flared, but he kept his hands from clenching into fists or grabbing for his wand—either one would result in bodily harm for the Hufflepuff. The Hufflepuff that was currently sniffing at the Slytherin tosser's hair and humming appreciatively.

Humming?

What a humming, stupid, idiotic, _idiot_!

Harry felt sorry for him—he really did. What kind of a moron goes around manhandling people—specifically blond prats—and sniffing their hair? Merlin, didn't he know that he looked completely ridiculous with his arms around the Slytherin's thin waist, his thumbs rubbing circles on the other man's hipbones?

Harry was not jealous.

He was angry.

He was embarrassed for the performance the two men were putting on.

He pitied the stupid Hufflepuff that would not let the other man go!

Zacharias Smith, idiot of all idiots, needed to just—

"Let go," Harry growled which was followed quickly by a snarl—the kind of snarl that a werewolf made when it hunted. Maybe he was hunting and his prey just happened to be a blond Hufflepuff?

Before he could stop himself—or Ron for that matter—Harry prowled over to the two men, leaving the gaping redhead to follow. He withdrew his wand and pushed the tip into the back of Smith's neck, trying to contain his dangerously out of control magic.

"Harry, what are you—"

The glare Harry sent the Slytherin was enough to silence him, stamping out any stupid questions the prat might ask.

"Unhand him," Harry ordered, his voice shaking.

"Excuse me," Smith tried to argue, but Harry dug the wand into his neck harder. "Ow," he whined and tried to turn around.

"I said," Harry paused to stifle some of his anger, "unhand him."

"Harry, this isn't any of your business," Smith tried again, his oily voice raking over Harry like hot coals. He ran a hand through his not-white-enough blond hair and shot the brunette a grin over his shoulder—the kind of grin that the winner shot the loser in a competition. "I would appreciate it if you didn't interrupt my conversations with my _boyfriend_."

"Boyfriend?" Harry asked, his green eyes seeking out gray as he took a step back from the couple. "Boyfriend?" he repeated and the heartbreak in his voice was palpable to anyone standing nearby. "He's your boyfriend?" Harry asked the Slytherin.

"Harry," Draco started to move toward the brunette, but the other blond stopped him with an arm around his waist. "Unless—do you have something you need to say—"

"When?" Harry whispered, wishing the ground would swallow him whole or he could escape on the broom he had dropped somewhere on the pitch. He felt a hand on his shoulder and knew it was his best friend trying to bring a little comfort.

It didn't help.

How could Draco have a boyfriend?

And his boyfriend was the stupid Hufflepuff?

It didn't pass Harry's notice that Draco was shooting daggers at Ron's hand on his shoulder, his gray eyes glinting with anything but kindness. "What does it matter? You said that you—"

"Come on, Harry," Ron urged, having heard this particular argument a thousand times and knowing what it did to his friend. Hell, even he wanted to punch Smith in his smug face. If anyone deserved that Hufflepuff it was the Slytherin idiot he was cuddling with.

Harry nodded dejectedly, his back sagged and his shoulders drooped as he turned toward the castle to leave the two lovebirds to their privacy. He retrieved his broom and Quidditch gloves from their spot on the grass and walked toward the castle feeling that each step forward was a nail in the coffin that was his relationship with Draco.

_Was_ being the operative word.

After all, Draco never wanted to cuddle Harry in public like he did Smith.

"You doing all right?" Ron asked, his hand never leaving Harry's shoulder as if the brunette would fall over without his support. "I could turn Smith's face into a giant boil?"

For the first time since Quidditch practice had started, Harry let out a soft chuckle, a tiny smile splitting his face. "Make his arse the size of an elephant's and you've got a deal."

Ron pretended to think it over for a minute before snorting in laughter. "Deal, mate."

They reached the castle in relative silence, Harry's anger having been left behind on the Pitch and Ron not wanting to push his luck. It was easier that way. Eventually he would open up to the redhead about everything.

Just as Harry was about to disappear through the doors, he heard rumbling footsteps behind him. "Harry," the person called out.

"Go away."

"You didn't let me explain," Draco announced, his breath coming in wheezing pants.

_He must have ran all the way from the pitch_. Harry shook his head, but still didn't turn around. He couldn't handle seeing Draco and knowing that the blond belonged to someone else. He wasn't sure he would ever be able to handle that knowledge—Draco was it for him and had been for a long time.

Heaving a deep sigh, Harry opened and closed his mouth as he searched for the right words to convey to Draco that it was over. _You have a boyfriend_ would have done the trick, but Harry couldn't bring himself to utter that sentence. "There's nothing to say," he chewed his bottom lip. "I guess you made your choice."

"But that's just it," Draco's voice spoke directly into Harry's ear, his arm snaking around the brunette's waist. "Smith may be a catch and I know all the Hufflepuffs like him. And he has dreamy eyes and a body to die—"

Harry gnashed his teeth and tried to push Draco away from him.

"But," Draco continued, holding Harry steadily against his chest, "He's an idiot. And he's not my boyfriend."

Despite the tight hold Draco had around Harry's midsection, the brunette turned to face Draco, their chests brushing against each other. "He's not—you're not—he's not?"

The blond beamed at Harry and squeezed him a little tighter to his body. "He never was, Harry. He had asked me and before I could respond, you interrupted like a jealous git."

"I wasn't jealous."

"You were jealous," Draco intoned before glancing down at their chests. "I told him I already had a boyfriend," Draco looked up at Harry through his too thick, too perfect eyelashes.

"What?" Harry roared, making Draco flinch. Who else could he be dating and how had they got to the blond first? "You fucking bastard," his magic flitted to the surface and reached out at the blond, but instead of hurting him, Harry's magic caressed him.

The blond smiled at Harry like he was the idiot—and not that stupid Hufflepuff—and leaned in until their lips were touching, but they weren't kissing. "Don't make a liar out of me," Draco whispered against the brunette's lips and searched his emerald green eyes.

Clutching at his robes to pull him closer, Harry captured Draco's mouth with his, pouring all of his love, frustration, jealousy, and anger into that one earth shattering, knee buckling, mind blowing kiss.

It wasn't until Potions the next day that Harry caught a glimpse of Zacharias Smith, sporting an elephant arse and a boil for a face.

Serves him right for being such an…

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	16. Grandpa of the Year

Lucius Malfoy was the greatest grandfather in the history of grandfathers. After all, he had superior breeding, copious amounts of money, and the most endearing, charming, loving grandchildren he could ever hope for.

It certainly made his job of Grandpa of the Year easier.

Unless they behaved like their other father who had unfortunately passed along some of his less sophisticated, inferior genes.

Currently, Albus Malfoy-Potter was showing some of his caveman-like DNA as he stomped his foot and wailed—_wailed_—in his grandfather's face, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Lucius silently cursed Potter—well, not so much silently since his shouts could be heard throughout the manor, "Fucking Potter that blithering idiot. I'm going to kill him. Buggering hell!"

"Oh," little Scorpius bellowed as he jumped up and down on the couch, his messy blond hair falling into his green eyes. "Gwampy sweared! Gwampy sweared!" He pointed an accusing finger at the blond man and jumped harder.

"You have to put a sickle in the swear jar," Jamie ordered from his broom—his broom that he was flying around the room just out of his grandfather's reach, the blond man's wand tucked away in the brunette's pocket. "Dad's going to be so mad when he finds out. He always threatens to spank Daddy when he swears."

And Lucius did not need that mental image. He wanted to Scourgify his brain. Scratch that, he wanted to Obliviate himself.

"Gwampy's gonna get a spanking! Gwampy's gonna get a spanking!" Scorpius sing-songed, bouncing precariously close to an antique vase shaking on the sidetable.

That was when Lilly, sweet little Lilly, knocked her plate to the floor, not before tossing some of her mushed carrots across the room followed by a handful of peas that hit Lucius' neck with a SMACK!

"Bloody—" Lucius shut his mouth and counted to ten, his nostrils flaring as his little angels revealed that they were, in fact, demon spawn. He blamed Potter. His little babies were powerless to the Potter genes. "For the love of Merlin," he shrieked and stared down each of his grandchildren with his patented Malfoy sneer.

Scorpius stuttered his jumping and Jamie froze in mid-air, but Albus—his little Alby—was still screaming his head off, throwing the tantrum to end all tantrums.

Alby's ear-shattering cries sounded so violent that Lucius was concerned for the little tyke's health. Once or twice he thought his grandson would swallow his own tongue during the course of his little fit.

To make matters worse, Albus was inconsolable. He cried when Lucius tried to cuddle him, he kicked and hit when the blond tried to bribe him with food, candy, and galleons, and he even tried to bite his grandfather when the man got too close. Instead, he stood in the middle of the room sobbing like someone had just told him that Santa had died.

Needless to say, Lucius wanted to Aveda Kedavra himself, but he couldn't because Jamie was flying around the room again with his stolen wand.

There was a blaring crash from the other side of the couch, making Lucius groan in exasperation. It's not like Lucius ever really liked that vase anyway—it had been a gift from Narcissa's sister, but—buggering hell—his babies were out of control.

He ran his fingers through his thinning hair and pulled at the ends, eliciting soft giggles from his grandchildren—well, all of them except for Albus.

Suddenly the fireplace flared green and a smarmy git stepped through the flames. Potter shot him an apologetic grin, ducking his messy head complete with a bird's nest for hair and ash and soot smeared into his skin. Couldn't the man go anywhere without making an idiot of himself? He still didn't understand what Draco saw in him and they had been together for well over a decade.

"Accio wand," Potter muttered, holding out his hand as Lucius' wand streamed across the room. "Jamie, down," he ordered, his son immediately obeying as Potter took in the sight of the room. The arrogant prat. He waved his arm and vanished the broken vase before fixing Scorpius with a quelling glare, stopping the boy mid-bounce. Stalking further into the room, Potter cleared away Lily's plate and splattered food, replacing the mess with transfigured toys for the infant who giggled in turn.

When the other three children were quietly playing, firmly planted on the floor and not flying or jumping in the air, Potter made his way over to his small clone. "Alby," he whispered gently, his son stretching out his arms and racing over to his father, clinging to his legs like his life depended on it. "We're so sorry," he murmured and knelt down so that he could hug his son, the little brunette snuggling into the man's broad chest. "We forgot and that's no excuse," he said, rubbing soothing circles into the boy's back.

Albus hiccupped and nuzzled his father's shoulder.

"Please forgive me," Potter pleaded and kissed the top of Alby's head.

Lucius watched as his son-in-law flicked his wand in the air in an intricate pattern and produced a stuffed animal. But to the Malfoys, Potters, Weasleys, and Malfoy-Potters, they knew it was so much more than a toy, it was Albus Malfoy-Potter's best friend. He never went anywhere without his little pumpkin bear.

"Pumpkin Bear," Albus squealed in delight, and cuddled the toy as tightly as possible. He giggled, kissed his father on the cheeks, and ran to join his siblings playing silently on the floor.

"Daddy," Scorpius called from his spot next to Jamie and Albus, "Gwampy sweared."

"He did what?" Draco screeched as his head poked through the fireplace.

"Is he going to get a spanking?" Jamie asked and smiled a particularly devilish little smile.

"Where's Cissy," Lucius growled and stormed from the room. "It's her turn with the children."

**As always, reviews are lovely!**


	17. A Thinking Harry

**I'm so sorry, but this story does contain Mpreg. It was written for a prompt in a community that required male pregnancy. Please no flames if you're not into that sort of thing. Send me a prompt and I'll choose at least one or two to write as a way to make it up to you! :)**

* * *

"Harry James Potter, what do you think you're doing?" Draco queried, the silence from the other room an ominous sign that disconcerted the blond. Swiftly drying his hands on a towel and depositing it on the edge of the sink, Draco exited the spacious kitchen in search of his favorite Gryffindor.

"Love?" he called out as he strolled through their sitting room only to find it empty. "Harry?"

He halted in place and listened for any sound of movement from the other man. "Hon?" he tried again, his voice going a little higher when he found himself completely alone in their shared flat.

Shuffling back to the kitchen, the blond opened the far cupboard and pulled out a jar of pickles—they were definitely needed for later. He waltzed into the sitting room and threw himself bodily onto the couch. He would just have to wait for Harry.

Less than half an hour later, a loud CRACK of apparition woke Draco up from his catnap.

"Harry?" he asked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "Where'd you go?"

He watched his boyfriend from the other side of the room, his back to Draco, giving him a lovely view of his firm arse. Draco licked his lips, cursing his hormones as a pool of want coiled low in his belly.

Unloading and resizing several boxes and bags in a chaotic pile, Harry muttered to himself as if he hadn't noticed the blond. "Where is it? Where is that book? I know I put it somewhere—AHA!" he shouted and dug into a particularly large, yellow box.

"Harry," Draco tried again from his spot on the couch.

"It's supposed to be—"

"Harry," the blond raised his voice to be heard over his boyfriend's incessant mumbling.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, making it look even more disorderly than normal. He shook his head as if he had come to a decision and started to rummage through the assorted pile again. "Harry!" Draco shouted, lifting the top half of his body off the sofa, fighting the surge of worry and alarm that had swept over him.

"Huh?" Harry stopped mid-rant and turned to face his boyfriend, blinking owlishly at Draco. "Dray," he whispered reverently and dropped the book in his left hand as he hurried over to the sofa. "I thought you were in the kitchen."

"I was," Draco replied, planting a sweet kiss on his love's lips. "You've been gone for a while, Harry."

Bending down, Harry rested his hands on Draco's abdomen and absentmindedly rubbed the small bump where the blond's stomach swelled. "Daddy loves you, Jamie," he said through the gentle kisses he planted on his boyfriend's belly. "I was out getting baby supplies," he said to Draco, staring into his pregnant boyfriend's eyes with such tenderness that Draco's heart melted.

"Supplies?" Draco countered, cupping Harry's face in his hands and kissing the tip of his nose. "Harry, the nursery has been ready for a month. We already have everything we need."

Harry ducked his head and softly massaged the bump with his fingers. "Er," he started and gathered his boyfriend into his arms, cuddling the blond against his chest, his bulging stomach pushing against him. "I started thinking about the fireplace."

"The fireplace," Draco deadpanned. Sometimes a thinking Harry did not bode well.

"Yes," he said, walking his fingers up and down Draco's arm. "And I thought about the time that Teddy almost flooed to God-knows-where—and what if that happened to Jamie—so I decided to close the fireplace. But then I tripped over the coffee table and what if Jamie hit his little head on one of the corners, you know? And then I stubbed my toe on the couch and almost knocked over the lamp. Dray, our house isn't ready for a baby. It's not even ready for me."

Draco chuckled lightly and raked his fingers through his boyfriend's dark hair. "Harry," he admonished, waiting until the other man made eye contact, "Jamie isn't even here yet. Are you sure you're not projecting?"

"I'm not projecting, I—"

"Will be a wonderful father. You're the only person I want to build a family with, love."

Harry chewed on his bottom lip before a brilliant smile engulfed his face. "You're the only one I want to be the father of my children," Harry whispered and kissed his boyfriend. "Little Jamie is going to be lucky to have you."

"You too," Draco laughed and snuggled closer to Harry.

"Do you want a pickle?" Harry asked, reaching for the jar sitting on the coffee table.

"With chocolate ice cream and Nutella?"

"Anything for you, love."

"But first, shove off, I have to pee."

**Reviews are lovely!**


	18. Your Children

**I originally wrote this as a oneshot for Countdown to Halloween, but I loved this one so much that I had to post it here instead. :)**

"No."

Smoothing out the invisible wrinkles in his green healer robes, Draco fixed the little body in front of him with a lethal glare. "I must not have heard you properly," the blond sneered, "because I could have sworn I asked you to do something, young man."

The small boy glowered in the perfect imitation of his father. "No."

Glancing at the man standing awkwardly next to the little boy, Draco gave him a brief once-over while the man was distracted by his wiggling son. God, he was so stunning that it made Draco's stomach clench.

"Do something about your son," he ordered when emerald eyes clashed with his own gray.

Harry Potter huffed like some sort of expert huffer and placed his hands on his delectable hips. "Jamie," he scolded, his voice taking on a hard edge that should only be reserved for the bedroom, "put your costume on."

Jamie shook his brunette head and crossed his arms. "No."

"You won't get candy until you do," the Boy Who Lived reasoned and winked at the blond over his son's head.

Jamie scrunched up his little face in thought, cocking his head and staring at the costume hanging from Draco's outstretched hand. "Candy?" the little one asked as if he didn't believe his father.

"Yes, all the candy you want."

Reaching out for the offending piece of clothing, Jamie raced up the stairs, his heavy feet thudding with every step. "Okay, Daddy," he called over his shoulder as he disappeared into his bedroom.

Draco heaved a deep sigh, shaking his head and taking in an eyeful of the other man. "I should get changed," he thought aloud.

"Why is it," Harry started, closing the distance between them and gripping Draco's hips with his strong hands, "that whenever they misbehave, they're my children?" He kissed his husband softly on the mouth, tracing his lips with his tongue until the blond invited him inside.

"It's obvious," Draco panted when Harry released him. "They get it from you," he added with a cheeky smirk.

Harry playfully swatted Draco's backside and went in for another kiss—

CRASH!

"No," Draco groaned and planted a chaste kiss on his husband's strong chin. "Well, love, your children await."

If the Malfoy-Potter house had suddenly filled with screaming as Harry Potter chased his shrieking husband up the stairs, attacking him with tickles, then the trick-or-treaters would just have to deal with it.

After all, they could always blame the noise on their children.

**Reviews are lovely!**


	19. Riding Elevators

**I never thought I would share this, but here is the very first piece of fanfiction that I have ever written. Let me know what you think!**

To say that Draco was having a bad day would be the understatement to end all understatements. Even after ten years of working at the Ministry, he never did get used to the hushed whispers and the covert glances at his left forearm where the faded ink of the dark mark still resided. Plus his terrible boss had a penchant for yelling at him one second, spit flying out of his mouth, and the next second he'd pat Draco on the head like he was soothing some petulant crup.

Needless to say, a very haggard and very rumpled Draco Malfoy entered the lifts on Level 5 wanting nothing more than to reach his flat as soon as possible. There was a bottle of wine chilling under a stasis charm and a long soak in the bathtub calling his name.

Since most of the offices closed at five o'clock and it was well past that, he hadn't expected to share the lift with anyone. Especially a notably short, decidedly young someone. A really little someone who had messy black hair that stuck up in the back and a light covering of freckles on his chubby cheeks.

Glancing around the small space and seeing no adult accompanying the child, Draco knelt down and tried to look at the little boy's face. "Hello?"

"'M not supposed to talk to stwangews," the little one responded and hunched in on himself.

"Too right," Draco smiled what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He didn't really have any experience with children. "My name is Draco. Do you know where your mommy or daddy are?"

The moment the blond said his name, the little boy gasped and jerked his head in Draco's direction.

Impossibly green eyes stared at Draco with a mixture of shock and something that could only be interpreted as glee.

"Dwaco?"

Potter? A little Potter was riding the lifts all alone?

After a few deep breaths, Draco's shock quickly turned to panic. What if they thought that Draco had taken the little Potter? What if _Potter_ thought that Draco had taken his son?

And why did his son have to have those green eyes? The same eyes that Draco had spent the past five years avoiding in the Atrium and the corridors and anywhere else the former bane of his existence could be found. It was better that way.

If he didn't see Potter, the other man couldn't see the exact moment that Draco's heart would flip or the stain of red that would dot his cheeks and the tips of his ears whenever he caught sight of him.

Fighting the urge to pat Little Potter on his head, Draco nodded. "And who are you?"

It was obvious that the boy was stamping down his excitement when he clasped his hands behind his back and rocked onto his toes. "I'm Alby. My daddy is Hawwy Pottew," he proudly declared, his eyes searching the ceiling as if he was trying to remember the rest of the speech that he had been taught. "My mum's name is Ginny Longbottom." He scrunched up his decidedly adorable little face in concentration. "My daddy is a ponce."

Draco chuckled as Alby Potter's smile engulfed his entire face. "And who taught you to say that?"

"Uncle Geowge."

Stifling his laughter, Draco stood and looked down at mini-Potter. "Where's your daddy now, Alby?"

The little boy shrugged and smiled again, the same crooked smile that Draco had seen on another face numerous times.

Potter was probably going out of his mind with worry. He remembered the headlines when the Harry Potter fanatics had taken to stalking the entire Potter clan. He shivered as he recalled one article in particular regarding the little boy standing in front of him.

"Well, Alby, let's go find your daddy."

Mini-Potter clenched his jaw, replacing his smile with a determined look, and gave Draco a brief nod.

Just as the lift changed its direction to Level 2, Potter's son slipped his tiny, chubby hand into Draco's.

But Potter wasn't in his office or on any of the other floors. By the time they reached the Atrium, almost an hour had passed since Draco had spotted the child. Little Potter had decided he was too tired to stand on his own anymore and nuzzled Draco's shoulder as the blond held him tightly.

Draco wasn't prepared for the scene that awaited him when the doors opened.

"No one is to leave this building," a giant-like man yelled over the crowd that was gathered at the ministry floos, his voice bouncing off the walls so it sounded like a chorus of men repeating the same command.

In the center of the room, surrounded by his fellow Aurors clad in scarlet robes, stood Potter. His hair was even more unkempt and frazzled than usual. His robes had been discarded somewhere leaving him in a wrinkled, untucked button-down shirt and black trousers. He was gesturing wildly with his left hand while his right hand held onto the squirming boy at his side.

The other boy was slightly taller than the one nestled in Draco's arms. He had messy auburn hair and prominent freckles. The twinkle in his blue eyes was visible even from Draco's distance, and his smile was like a tractor beam as he stared at the blond.

"Dad," he said, tugging at Potter's arm.

"Hold on, Jamie," Potter responded, the bite in his voice was tinged with fear. How long had he been looking for his little carbon copy?

Like a typical Gryffindor, the little boy, Jamie, was unrelenting. "Dad," he shouted and pointed at Draco when he got his father's attention.

"Wha—" Potter stopped mid-word when he met Draco's gaze and then his eyes landed on his other son.

"Al," he breathed as he closed the distance between them, the relief on his face palpable. Loosening his grip on the mini-Potter, Draco let the dark haired man scoop up his son, holding him like a fragile doll. He kissed his son on the forehead and tightened his grip on Alby.

"Malfoy…how did you—"

"Draco Malfoy?" The louder of the two sons asked, as he joined his father at his side.

Shooting a quizzical look at the other man, Draco acknowledged the older of the sons. "Yes," he answered carefully, drawing out the word into two syllables.

"Oh man," he giggled. "My dad talks about you all the time. Don't you, Dad?" he directed at Potter who was currently doing his best impression of a fish out of water. To Draco, the little boy said, "Dad thinks you have dreamy eyes."

"Jamie!" Potter scolded and pressed his son closer to his side in an effort to muffle whatever he was going to say next.

Potter coughed and distracted himself by soothing an already calm Al. "How did you find him?" he whispered, sounding like he could break like glass.

"He was riding the lifts," Draco supplied.

"I don't know how to thank you," Potter gushed.

Draco could feel the flush crawling up his neck. His stomach did somersaults at the awe and gratitude in Potter's voice. It was the same feeling that Draco experienced every time he looked at the other man. "It wasn't a problem, Potter," Draco waved away the appreciation with his hand.

For the first time since they had emerged from the lifts, Potter fixed Draco with a stare that made him feel like he was the only one in the world. "Please, call me Harry."

"Alright, Harry."

"Daddy?" Mini-Potter asked in a barely audible voice that was more breath than sound. "Can Dwaco come home with us?"

**Reviews are lovely and appreciated!**


	20. Dinner

**This is just a little drabble I cooked up.**

"I think it's trying to eat us," Draco scoffed, his beautiful face pinched in disgust. He poked at his plate with his fork, letting out a squeak of derision. "This is just—" he settled his grey eyes on Harry and whined. "I can't Harry."

"Yes, you can," Harry bit out. Merlin, his boyfriend could be melodramatic sometimes. "Eat," he ordered through bites of his, frankly, delicious dinner.

Draco made a disgruntled noise at the back of his throat and pushed his fork around his plate again. He stared at his dinner with wide, disturbed eyes. His hand quivered as he dropped the silverware onto the table and scooted his chair closer to his boyfriend. "Please, Harry," he begged with innocent eyes.

Only someone with a heart of steel could resist Draco when he was like this—small and vulnerable. Fortunately, Harry had had plenty of experience with the blond. He sighed, rolled his eyes and shifted his chair away from the table. "Well, come on," he opened his arms and welcomed the lapful of blond. "You're ridiculous, you know that," he murmured against Draco's temple and rubbed his back.

Draco nuzzled into Harry's neck with a sniff. "Sod off," he muttered. His pouty lips catching on Harry's skin, making it break out in gooseflesh. "I can't believe you actually expected me to eat that drivel."

Harry let out a faint huff and squeezed the blond tighter. "Drivel? Dray, those were just some roasted vegetables."

"Whatever," Draco drawled, "I want some Honeydukes."

**Reviews are lovely and appreciated! :)**


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